@X7 re: my dad.
Didn't get along with him? You deserve a cookie only slightly smaller than the orbit of PLUTO for that.
I often wondered if I were either Adopted or otherwise Not His Biological Child. If it weren't for my "having his nose" (yuck!) I would never have believed we were related.
He would do things that to my "untrained, immature, unskilled" eye would be Dumb As Hell & I'd ask him why he did $This instead of $That. I'd make suggestions on how I thought it might work better if it was reworked to do $X rather than $Y, and might be more efficient. His reply was always "Go Away. I'm the Engineer around here."
Fine, I'll go away, and I'll remember that I suggested what turned out to be The Right Way when we end up having a Professional come around to make things right because the County Code Inspector came by & had an utter shit fit.
One example of his DumbFuckery was we had a Subaru hatchback with a five speed manual transmission. The clutch plate started to go wonky & he insisted he could fix it, that it would save money, and be faster than taking it to a Dealer. Three engines later, four clutch plates later, nearly two THOUSAND dollars, & three months later with still no working car, Mom grabbed the keys, called a flat bed wrecker, & had it towed to the nearest auto shop.
It turned out to have been a part on the clutch plate, not the plate itself, that had been failing. Cost to repair it if it had been Done Right The First Time? A couple hundred for the labor, twenty for the part, & the car would be back in our hands the same afternoon.
Cost after dad got ahold of it? Twenty-Five hundred bucks to remount the engine correctly, install a new clutch plate (plus the twenty dollar part that needed replacing), and a WEEK in the shop for all the labor.
When mom got the car back & had keys in hand, she punched dad in the face with them & told him "This is now MY car. You are not allowed to touch MY car. If I catch you beneath the (Hood|Bonnet) of MY car, I will RUN YOU OVER WITH IT."
I do believe dad never touched it again, and consequentially it lasted another decade before mom sold it to get something else.
In the mean time dad went through no fewer than three cars, buying used junkers, "fixing" them, ruining them even farther, & leaving them in such condition that they had to be hauled away on flat bed wreckers to the junk yard because they no longer were capable of moving under their own power.
This was just one of the many reasons why mom divorced him. When she finally decided to do so & came to me to see how I would react, I gave her a massive happy hug, danced around the house with her, & asked her "Do you need help hiding the body?"
She nearly laughed her tits off in relief & amusement.
Unfortunately she Let Him Live, but that was a turning point in both our lives. She got a fresh start with a man whom *ACTUALLY* can fix things (he's a licensed Contractor with many years of a successful business to his credit) and I got to attend a Community College with StepDad's help rather than trying to find a scholarship to cover it all.
No, I didn't get along with BioDad. I may have been related to him by blood, but I tried *very* hard NOT to turn out like him. I can only hope I succeed.
(If nothing else, never setting myself on fire is a big step in that direction! Narf!)